


It was a bad day.

by TheLightFury



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Depressed Harry, Depressed Harry Potter, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, POV Harry Potter, Suicidal Thoughts, self-neglect
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:35:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25927483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLightFury/pseuds/TheLightFury
Summary: ‘I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry,’he chanted in his head, desperate for Draco to hear him yet silenced by shame. But despite everything, Draco simply held him, carrying him tenderly.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 14
Kudos: 277





	It was a bad day.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to @hpdmgk for the beta! <3

It was a bad day. 

Another one. 

Exhaustion weighed heavily in every fibre of his being, numbness rolled through him with every slow, reluctant heartbeat, and fog, thick and confusing, clouded his mind each hour-long minute. Just as it had for the last week. Or was it two, now? 

Harry winced as trying to think sent a sharp stab of pain through his head—a common occurrence on days like these—immediately resolving that it didn't matter. All that mattered was daylight had reappeared, and he was still here, even if sometimes he didn't want to be. Even if he had no idea what day it was, how many meetings with friends he'd missed, or how many meals he'd skipped. He was surviving. That was enough.

"Potter?"

Pain shot through his head again as it spun, too many thoughts assaulting him at once. Draco? Why was Draco here? How was he standing there? Looking at him? In this state? What day was it? Were they supposed to meet today? Why was he  _ here? _

"Nngg," he tried, the grating silence and Draco's figure suddenly loomed over him, demanding an answer. But his mouth was dry, his throat parched, and his mind suddenly painfully aware of every fleck of dirt, every crumb, and every drop of sweat that clung to him like a flobberworm to dirt. Unable to fight through the pile of shame, guilt, and disgust clogging his throat, Harry studiously focused anywhere but on the man in front of him. 

The air vibrated around them for a few moments, tense and suffocating, until slowly, Draco drew closer, perching on the edge of the bed. Before Harry could summon the courage to look at him, however, soft fingers tentatively stroked themselves through his hair, immediately drawing a whimper from him.

"Shh, Harry," Draco murmured as Harry’s eyes refused to remain open. "It's okay."

_ ‘It’s not,’  _ he wanted to say. Wanted to scream. Wanted to cry. But he was helpless, caught between cringing as Draco gently, lovingly began untangling his greasy hair, and desperately willing his body closer to Draco’s touch. Like the utterly pathetic waste of space he was.

“I have an idea,” a soft voice murmured with far more tenderness than he deserved. “Do you want to try?” 

When Draco’s hands paused in question, Harry hoped the strangled noise of assent he managed was enough. 

After a final gentle stroke of his hair, the weight beside Harry lifted, cold gushing into its absence. Mere seconds later, an incantation whispered over him, and arms, warm and strong, reached under his neck and legs, lifting him easily from his cocoon. The waft of week old sweat put a sudden end to the cautious tendrils of comfort spreading through his chest.

_ ‘I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry,’  _ he chanted in his head, desperate for Draco to hear him yet silenced by shame. But despite the offensive reek and obvious grunge covering his skin and clothes, Draco simply held him, carrying him tenderly, though to where Harry had no idea, humiliation hiding his every coherent thought. But a mere few moments later, a cold, hard surface that turned out to be the toilet appeared beneath him, and soft fingers laced with his. 

“Can I help you shower, Harry?” Draco asked, beautiful, caring, eyes somehow withholding the judgement and disgust he deserved so keenly. “We’ll need to take our clothes off and sit in there under the spray. Does that sound okay?” 

Body beginning to shake from the effort of remaining upright, Harry could only nod once briefly and swallow, blindly following Draco’s soft prompts and touches to undress as best he could. Such a simple task had never been so difficult before. 

Exhausted and drained, Harry leaned back against the cistern, flinching painfully at the icy chill yet resigned to its harsh support as his body threatened to collapse entirely. Only when the sound of water gushing beside him began and warmth touched his shoulder, sending spirals of want,  _ need,  _ and guilt through him once more, could he summon the energy to open his eyes again. 

Before him, cloaked in steam and nothing else, stood Draco, his intense, kind gaze alone somehow making him feel more exposed than physically possible. Slowly, painfully, he met Draco’s gentle eyes, swallowing as silence, sticky and deafening, hung between them. A line of tension descended to Draco’s shoulders.

“Do you still want to shower?” he checked quietly. 

He paused, glancing at the warm, beckoning water, before nodding. 

“Would you still like me to help you?” 

Longing burned through Harry’s chest as visions of Draco holding him, caressing him, warming him from the inside out flooded his mind, promising everything he’d wanted since the bad days began in one fell swoop. But even though every fibre of his being begged for comfort, still shame screamed at him, forcing him to drop his gaze as he gave a single, jolty nod. 

Almost immediately Draco’s shoulders seemed to drop slightly, and, without a word, Harry was lifted once more. Careful touches sent shivers down his spine, drawing him further into Draco’s chest as they stepped into the spray, and as soon as the water hit Harry’s skin, every muscle heaved a sigh of relief. A slight squeeze from Draco brought the embarrassing realisation that he’d groaned aloud.

“I’m going to make us a bit more comfortable, give me a minute,” Draco murmured, before beginning to sink towards the floor of the tub. A mere few moments later, Harry found himself being settled onto Draco’s lap as arms cradled him close, and ensured they were both under the spray yet able to breathe easily. When Draco carefully swept Harry’s hair back from his eyes, Harry simply let his forehead fall forward against Draco’s neck.

“Is this okay?” The question sent vibrations tingling softly over Harry’s skin as he swallowed.

_ No _ . 

No, it wasn’t okay. 

It wasn’t okay that Draco, usually so waspish, acerbic, and witty, was being so tender. It wasn’t okay that the first time they were seeing each other for something other than a pint or a quick, desperate, hot fuck was when he couldn’t even speak because life was just that shit. It wasn’t okay that the numbness that had held him captive for days on end was straining dangerously, like a dam about to burst. And it wasn’t okay that it had been so long since he’d just been held, just been cared for, leaving him so desperate for the tender touches Draco was offering. But still, as the spray poured down, and the steady rise and fall of Draco’s chest beneath his cheek continued, he nodded, channeling all his energy to try and swallow past the lump in his throat. 

The gentle squeeze of acknowledgement from Draco was all it took to render his efforts useless.

Suddenly, hot salt mingled with the warm spray cascading down his face. Suddenly, gasps ripped through him. Suddenly, every beat of his heart was hard, painful, and crushing. And suddenly, his hands were clutching at Draco’s arms, chest, neck, anything he could reach, blindly trying to keep him there.

“I’m sorry,” he choked, as soft shushings and gentle hands tried to soothe him, tried to pull him closer, tried to reassure him they were staying. “I’m so sorry.”

“Shut up, Potter,” Draco murmured, voice far too loving for his words as Harry hiccuped and sobbed uncontrollably. “Just let me hold you.”

Even if Harry would have had a choice in the matter, he still wouldn’t have needed to be told twice.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Come and find me on Tumblr @april-thelightfury115 :) <3


End file.
